


The songs of Peraltiago

by ImmaculateMisconceptions



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, I don't know what I'm doing, I take suggestions, but I'm enjoying it!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-02-16 06:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmaculateMisconceptions/pseuds/ImmaculateMisconceptions
Summary: A series of Jake and Amy moments and experiences based on various songs I like or hear.Not always canon compliant and not always faithful to the song.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one while listening to One Direction's "Through the Dark". I wouldn't necessarily call it faithful to the song, and "based on" is probably a lose term.

 

To say Amy was embarrassed was an understatement. Her break up with Teddy was only a few days ago and she could barely keep it together. She avoided Jake like a wildfire, crying as he remained steadfastly in love with Sofia. She spent most evenings with Kylie, watching re-runs of documentaries and even slipping into the uncomfortable genre of Reality TV. 

"I'm hurt," She told Gina and Rosa in the break room, keeping one eye sternly trained on the door. "Mostly I'm just embarrassed. Everything happened for the wrong reasons and nothing good came of it."

Rosa leaned back, silent, but Gina's smugness only spread. "I can't believe this is the most interesting thing about you," She announced. 

"You're enjoying my shame?" 

"Of course she is. This is Gina's life force." Rosa retorted. "You need a distraction. I don't want to tempt Drunk Amy, so instead, you can have a few of my empty cases."

"Really?" Amy leaned forward, excitement already in her eyes. "Are there any with a lot of paperwork or a lot of out-of-office time?" 

Rosa grinned, already planning which of the cases she didn't want to do that she could hand over. 

 

* * *

 

She threw herself into the ever-growing stack of cases she insisted on gathering from her co-workers. 

Jake tried sifting through a few and she snapped at him to back off, saying she could handle them all. "You already won our bet you don't have to prove yourself again, Jake." The way she said his name made him retreat. 

"She never smiles, and never laughs at any of my jokes anymore," Jake whined, slurping on his beer. 

"I feel you man," Charles patted his shoulder, nodding gently. "Listen, there's a really great sushi restaurant, their salmon has the best mouth-"

"No Charles! I don't want to eat salmon with good ' _mouth feel'_ I want to sit here and worry about my friend." 

"You don't smile much either," Charles informed him, snatching up his jacket. "All you can do is be there for her and wait for her to come back." Shrugging he continued on, "I'm sorry man, but that's the truth."

 

Jake frowned into his beer, seeing the minuscule amount of liquid left he rapped on the wood surface of the bar. Shaws cleared out long before he sobered up and even longer before he exited into the cool evening air. 

 

Work the next day found Jake snatching a few cases off Amy's desk. The one pile was now two piles and as she glared up at him, mouth open and ready to protest, Jake cut in. "I don't want to see you burning yourself out. I get you're going through stuff right now, but we're still friends. I'm trying to help you, not prove I'm better than you -" She glared down his boastful joke, and he sighed, "I'm here for you, as a friend." 

She said nothing, but looked down at her keyboard, fiddling with her pen, as Jake took his files across to his desk and started flipping through them. It was true, she might have taken a little more than she could handle, but the pressure kept her mind of Jake and his dumb jokes and his dumb laugh and his dumb moral compass. 

* * *

 

 

Amy was not an insomniac. She fell asleep always before eleven thirty when she could, and she woke to her alarms at six forty-five. It had worked for four years, so why not tonight? She fiddled with her phone - a terrible idea, really. She'd never sleep if she opened it and the bright light hit her eyes. 

Fear and panic,  _was she losing him?_ crept into her mind. He was generous and kind, and she was letting every opportunity to experience a future, any future,  _romantic stylez_ with him. It was her fault. Maybe she was the one with the dumb moral compass. 

_it feels like the night is swallowing me_

Kylie, a light sleeper, responded instantly. 

_this is really bothering you._

Of course, it was. She had feels that were different from her feelings towards previous partners and it was terrifying and overwhelming and there was no way of controlling any of it.  _I don't know if I'm strong enough to keep working with him._ She could imagine the horror and embarrassment of a workplace outburst. Tears and yelling were rare for her, but her smoke breaks had become less sneaky and more frequent since the lodge get-away and they didn't always feel like enough. Half the time she didn't even light the cigarette, she just stood in the brisk alley air and paced. 

She was going to lose it at work and - her phone dinged. 

 

_you have to let yourself grieve, amy. You can't move on and "get better" by ignoring your emotions and smoking them away._

* * *

 

He wished he could take it back. That he could never go on the date with Sofia, or never invite Teddy to the lodge, or any one of his one horrible actions that lead to this moment. She was sobbing in his arms in the evidence locker, having just knocked the mug of coffee he'd offered her. 

To her credit, he'd startled her - something he'd promised to not do. And she was on the brink of tears when chewing him out, aggressively claiming need of a smoke break. She wasn't even hiding it now and rushed off in this direction. So now they sat, Amy leaning into Jake's hug, her whole body shaking with her sobs, and him rubbing her back. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you," He admitted softly, resting his cheek on her hair. She sniffled loudly. 

"But you did," She replied, so quiet he almost missed it. "And that's okay. You were doing what you thought was right."

* * *

 

Things settled into a kind of routine where Jake and Amy found they could tease each other again, taking advantage of some topics more than others and avoiding others altogether. They worked cases together and collaborated and there was hope in both of their hearts. She joined them during Friday nights at Shaw's, and Jake stopped bringing Sofia, who probably never enjoyed it to begin with.

When Sofia broke up with him and he finally told Amy, after trying to hide it for several days, she dragged him onto a case with her. She trod more carefully for a while until they found themselves in the evidence locker together, alone once more. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shawn Mendes' If I can't have you honestly reminded me a lot of this time period in Jake and Amy's relationship, especially Jake's mindset and thought process. I really enjoyed thinking about how he might have changed his behavior and why.

He wasn't a songwriter. Typically he was consumed by memorizing T-swift, ninety's ballads and alternating between screeching at varying octaves and his nonsensical tunes. That was all he needed, really. 

But his undercover character doesn't sing Tswift. He doesn't think about New York or Brooklyn. God, he doesn't think about Amy. He can't. His undercover character doesn't drink beer, but whiskey. Which isn't as disgusting as Jake first thought. He adds "too much" milk sometimes, when it's late at night and he can't afford a hangover the next morning. Or when he can't afford to be  _too drunk._

They drive into Canada for a week. It's a big deal, three weeks after Jake's been accepted into the "inner circle" so to speak. He drives alone, but the silence of the car weighs it down. He can't escape his thoughts.  _Will it be too late to tell you that everything means nothing if I can't have you?_ He ponders. There are too many possible outcomes of the next... too many months left. They drag by. As exciting as Jake thought being a spy would be, he hates not being a cop. 

Toronto is busy and Jake is happy to abandon his car in the underground parking lot of the group's hotel. He drags his bags to his room - sixth floor or something. The gang has to spend its time in the middle on deals like this. When everything hangs on being inconspicuous, they hang in the middle. No one suspects an average joe, or twenty. Sixth floor is still pretty impressive - there's a view across warehouses and skyscrapers alike and Jake finds himself taking too many photos, his mind humming with if he'll ever show _her_. He hides his phone in his underwear and he retreats early each night, spending too long scrolling through past messages - they're all innocuous and platonic. He can see why people thought they flirted - he punctuates his texts to her differently. Too many winks, half as many full stops. He can see where his grammar and his syntax has improved, and where she's stopped correcting him. He can see the flow and ebb of their relationship in every message. 

It hangs over his head. 

 

The days feel like weeks and Jake spends much of his time  _fitting in._ He pushes Amy away.  _She's with Teddy._ That's all that matters. And the girls in the gang are good leads to gather more information. He can discuss business with them  - get context from when he wasn't around. He filters their nonsense, wondering why he ever bothered with other girls. Georgia is great - she's witty, she makes great insights into the happenings of the gang, she admires Jake. She's  _smoking hot._  He won't get murdered by sleeping with her, because she isn't sleeping with anyone else.But Jake feels like he's gone on three dates too many. It's really fantastic - Georgia can dance, but it doesn't feel fun. She makes breakfast in his shirts and sweaters every morning, she lets her hands wander.  He's enjoying it. It sits in the back of his head - it's harder to reason with himself. It's a pit in his stomach, that this relationship is the worst part of this mission. He compares each moment to one he's already had.

He numbs himself with more kisses, with sex he's only dreamed of.  _everything means nothing if I can't have you._

 

The weeks drag on until he's back and there are hours of awkward jitters. He's back, but it's not over. Half the fun, and worse since nothing is right - Amy rushes away and avoids his gaze. She sits with Rosa, not him, and barely makes a quip. They stand alone for barely a second. She declares, with great certainty - and Jake has to wonder  _who are you trying to convince?_   - that she's still with Teddy, and his heart collapses, and he regrets not savoring moments with Georgia because now it's just lonely. 

The evidence room is both growing larger - the space between himself and Amy increasing, while also growing dimmer and tighter. He's nodding blindly, " _I didn't mean it,_ _"_ He stays there long after Amy leaves, cursing himself out over not having the guts.

 

He loiters at his own party, the drink in hand worse than some of the things the gang-members drank, cursing himself again for agreeing to  _friendship._ It's the best he can get, Jake knows that. She's laughing, leaning into Teddy and Jake's leaving earlier than he should. He can't have all of her - her anger, her Jake-specific eye roll, her laughs, and jokes. But he can have her as a bomb-ass partner. He can have her chuckles, her ideas. He can have her company. 

He can't move on. 

 

So he pushes away, and things aren't like how they were. He lasts, he really does, until they're pressed against each other and _everything's normal._ Except it isn't because Jake is sure he's forgotten how to kiss, and he's forgotten how to speak, and walk and maybe even breath, but Amy's hands are holding him like she's afraid he'll run away. And then it's over and their cover remains and Jake thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could stay undercover for years this time.

 

He tries to do right by her - it's the least she deserves from him. 

He might drag Sophia to more events that she thinks is right. He has to show Amy that he's okay; he's moved on. He has to prove to himself. A tiny voice in his mind whispers each time Rosa stares him down, every time he watches Amy walk away, or his fingers linger passing her something; A drink, a binder. Every time she laughs and he turns his head to look.  _you're holding on._

He tries to fix her relationship. Hurridly giving himself no choice, no option to hang on. If she's single, he has even less holding him back. He has morals, he'd never cheat. Amy would never let him. So he can hold on, but that grip falters the longer Teddy isn't in the picture. 

There's too much hope.

 Still, as the drive back to Brooklyn fills with silence, Jake fiddles with the radio, wondering if there will ever be a right time. 

She's staring out of the window. He doesn't mean to look but he's ruined everything and made everything that much better, that much clearer. He can't help how natural it feels to check her expression every few minutes, given all that's happened.  _Everything means nothing if I can't have you._ The words fail on his lips. He navigates the road instead, doing as he's done for almost a year, eyes focused, waiting. There will never be a right time, but he will find  _a_ time to tell her. 


End file.
